


at least you can't read my mind

by silhouette (thiefless)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Aged-Up Peter Parker, Fluff, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Telepathy, Thought Projection, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 11:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25848505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiefless/pseuds/silhouette
Summary: Tony thought:I love you.Peter's shocked gasp drew him out of his reverie. “What did you just say?”Oh, shit.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 184





	at least you can't read my mind

**Author's Note:**

> This is a silly, random little thing I procrastinated writing until I finally typed it all down. I hope you guys enjoy! :)

Previously on _Tony Stark Fucks Up Big Time:_ he was enjoying a nice, quiet lab day with his favourite human being when Doctor Strange materialised in a circle of shimmering gold, eternally exasperated, and requested their presence to defeat some bad guys. So far so good, right? Like a pair of fuckwits, they agreed, and off they went to fight a couple of crazed middle-aged wizards going through some kind of existential crisis. It was perfect – Peter with his spider-strength, Tony with his iron-clad defences, Strange with his...whatever Strange had. 

And they won with minimal effort. Please, like they wouldn't. Peter and Tony worked brilliantly together. 

Until Tony was hit by a literal puff of smoke – the kind some eccentric, crackpot magician would hurl into the sky to dazzle gullible children. It was so random that even Peter's amazing pre-cognitive senses failed to inform him of what was about to happen. Were this any other situation, Tony would be almost impressed. As it was: he was a little preoccupied. 

_What the hell was that?_ was his first thought, followed by an immediate vocalisation of said thought. At this current juncture, Tony still thought he came away relatively unscathed. 

Ha!

“You okay?” Peter asked, hopping on over. He helped dust off the excess powder from the Iron Man suit, charmingly oblivious to how Tony's eyes traced the sharp lines of his face, tracking even the slightest twitch of his facial expression, scanning for any open contusions. 

Tony thought: _I love you._

Peter's shocked gasp drew him out of his reverie. “What did you just say?”

Oh, shit. 

Did he just... say that out loud? Was that a thing he did now? He knew he was susceptible to ramblings, yet he was under the impression that those instances were exclusive to his mad-lab time. 

Nevertheless, denial was his go-to. “Nothing. I didn't say anything.” He was pretty sure it was the truth. 

Peter was sceptical, and Tony spared a cursory thought for how cute the kid looked with his brow all scrunched up, those lips curled downward in a frown, beautiful doe-eyes peering at him with an expression so intense–

“You just did it again!” Peter exclaimed, those eyes Tony had just been telepathically admiring now blown wide in shock. 

Now, _this_ was the part Tony knew He Fucked Up Big Time. Or Strange fucked up. Or the bad wizard – the entire fucking reason they were in this shitshow to begin with – fucked up. Whatever. Someone was doing the fucking up, and that someone may or may not be him.

(God, semantics was tricky.)

In the next few minutes, Strange theorised that Tony was struck with a temporary thought projection spell. _Temporary_ being a rather optimistic assessment; albeit one that Tony didn't have the heart to quibble with – not when he was so desperately trying to preserve his heart from further damage. 

Of course, there was only one caveat: because Peter was the first to place hands on him, the spell was tailored on the kid.

i.e. Peter was the (un)lucky recipient of Tony Stark's perpetual stream of consciousness. 

So.

Yep. To recap: Tony had just confessed to the love of his life that he was in love with him. Didn't sound so bad when put like that, but the reality was infinitely more frightening. 

Frankly, this was not Tony's morning, what with his declaration firing like a missile at point-blank range. Not that Peter was perturbed by it. Au contraire – the kid's expression morphed into something so soft, so precious, so malleable, that it completely took him off guard. Fuck. He was seriously out of his depth, here.

Determined to regain control, he pointed a finger. “This changes nothing.”

“Sure it doesn't, Mr. Stark.” Hm. The kid’s admission needed a touch more sincerity to be truly convincing. 

Diverting his attention firmly _away_ from the one person who always seemed to commandeer it, Tony instead addressed the only other wizard in his vicinity: “Hey, doc, you gonna help me out with this spell any time soon?”

Strange levelled him with a _look_. 

“Please,” Peter spoke up – on Tony's behalf, apparently. 

With a sigh, Harry Potter relented, and within the blink of an eye they were back in low-rent Hogwarts. Peter helped Strange out as best he could, and Tony couldn't help but marvel at the kid's brilliance, at his genius smarts and quick thinking, thoughts running rampant in his skull. 

Completely apropos of nothing, Peter's face lit up. 

“I really hate this,” Tony announced to no one in particular, petulance imbuing his words. 

“Really?” Peter responded cheerfully. “I kind of love it.”

As punishment, Tony used whatever autonomous brain power he had left to conjure up a delightful little image of one Mr. Parker sporting his _Underoos!_ fashion line. 

“What the– Mr. Stark!”

Tony grinned. What could he say? He would take his kicks wherever he could get 'em. 

Their playful banter – read: flirting? – came to an abrupt halt when Strange slammed down a heavy tome on the desk beside them, drawling, “Apologies for interrupting what appeared to be a scintillating exchange, but I would appreciate if you realigned your focus back on the task at hand.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at the wizard's tone. Next to him, Peter looked thoroughly abashed. Tony barely resisted the urge to lace their fingers together. Clearly, this whole farce was negatively affecting his already piss-poor impulse control. The sooner this nightmare was behind them, the better.

Key word: _sooner_. 

Turned out, the fix was ridiculously simple. Almost unfairly so; all this damage for such an easy solution. In no time at all, Strange said some words, the spell dissipated, and he ushered them back into the penthouse, closing the portal behind them

_And then there were two._

As the adrenaline subsided, the atmosphere between them was excruciatingly awkward. Tony wanted to mumble out a retraction to his telepathic love confession, but his tongue refused to comply with his demands. Rude. 

Instead, he did the very adult thing of angling his body to the side, adjacent to Peter. Object permanence did not exist if Tony decreed it did not – such was the extent of his maturity. If words failed him, he would contort his body language to suit his demands. 

And if it pushed Peter away, well... that was necessary for optimal survival. Self-preservation was the defining quintessence of human nature.

“Better skedaddle there, kid. Got a lot of work to do here, and I'm sure you have–” he waved a perfunctory hand in Pete's general direction– “other things to be getting on with.”

In his mind's eyes, he could see Peter's expression twist in the face of Tony's rejection - a hypothesis backed up by the little shocked exhalation. 

“Oh, my God,” Peter interrupted, clamping a hand on his mouth as soon as the blasphemy escaped his lips.

Tony furrowed his brows, warily side-eyeing him.

“I thought you knew.” Peter's wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights face was all Tony could see. All he wanted to see, but that was beside the point. “I mean– God, you're _you_. I thought I didn't need to say it.”

Tony didn't dare move for fear of shattering the tentative atmosphere. “Say what?” he croaked. 

Peter let out a hysterical little breath. “I love you.” Just like that, Tony's world tilted on its axis by the power of three little words. 

Heart asphyxiating his throat, he begged Peter to repeat the words before he died from love-starved hypoxia. 

With a tender smile, the kid Tony had given his entire heart to invaded his personal space – his warmth all Tony could focus on; his musk all Tony could think about. 

“Tony,” he murmured, low. His eyes danced a wicked tango. “I love you–” He was cut off by the rather insistent press of Tony's mouth on his. Tony swallowed his small squeak, tongue welcomed inside. 

Maybe thought transference had its perks, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
